


Monolith

by masqvia



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Empire-centric, F/M, Gen, I have a Thing for Well-Written Villains and Ardyn is no exception, It's a relationship but really only if you squint, OC-centric, Slow Build, Will feature the entire canon cast but at various times throughout
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-07
Updated: 2017-02-18
Packaged: 2018-09-07 00:16:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,071
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8775604
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/masqvia/pseuds/masqvia
Summary: It was mankind who unleashed the plague, so it was on mankind to end it. A story in which an Imperial stumbles upon a terrible discovery, long forgotten by history, and the Astrals aren’t quite as benevolent as they seem. 
Features several original characters, backstory for the Empire, exploration of Ardyn's history, science (or something of the sort), politics and devious plans, and a pet coeurl. Eventually. Pre/Post-game. Spoilers.





	1. Historia

**Author's Note:**

> I'm a sucker for OC/AU stories and I love to see just how far I can stretch canon. To me, the story of FFXV is alright at best. There's a solid basis to build off of and enough to work with, but there's so many unexplored facets... like the entire empire that you're fighting. And the entire parasitic virus which turns people into monsters. You learn very little about either, so here's an attempt at expanding both.

_When Ifrit turned on humanity, the rest of the Astrals stood by, indifferent. Gone were the promises of protection from divinity, as divinity refused to become involved in the affairs of humanity. Solheim sought for a way to stop him, and driven to desperation, unleashed a biological weapon to bring down the God. It won them victory—for as much as the Astrals could be defeated—but at a great cost: the virus did not discriminate and they had no cure._

_Left in ruin, the survivors vowed vengeance on the absent Gods. Led by the remaining Aldercapt line, this was the original purpose of the Niflheim Empire—but time has a way of warping the truth, and what started as a crusade for justice warped into a conquest for supremacy._

**—Lost Records from the History of the Empire.**

* * *

 

The first time Casnia sees Ardyn Izunia, she’s six, standing on an elevated platform in the center of the capital and watching as he’s announced Imperial Chancellor by the emperor.

It’s a dreary day, overcast and cold, and the winter air bites into her skin in a way that has her wishing she could just go home. She can’t, of course, because her parents hold rank and must stand present with the emperor’s select entourage, but propriety doesn’t stop her from whining in her head all the same.

Her only consolation is that the emperor’s sons, the only ones even relatively close to her age, look as frosty as she feels. They stand rigid straight, so motionless and passive that they remind her of the statues which line the streets of the Old City. She catches a slight quiver in Priam’s pose as a gust of wind blows by, and to his side, Pallas’ lips are slowly but surely tinting blue.

They both hide their discomfort well. She wouldn’t have noticed if she wasn’t bored out of her mind and staring at them. She’s seen the two Aldercapt princes before, has spoken to them—briefly—and truly wonders if they’re as miserable as she is. 

The city around them is just as cold and unforgiving. Gralea is all sharp edges and sleek steel, all but reflecting the harsh climate they constantly live in.

Everyone is dressed in elaborate, white uniforms, save for the Army Generals, dressed in shades of grey and red, and save for Ardyn, who seems off for a reason Casnia can’t quite put her finger on.

He's regal enough to stand beside the emperor, maintaining the proper posture and countenance, and he's charismatic enough for the position bestowed upon him, made evident in the rousing speech and promises he makes after the ceremony.

But he still stands out in the sea of white and grey in a way that leaves Casnia scowling.

He doesn't _fit._

It's not a glaring mismatch—not at first. It’s subtle, so barely noticeable that you wouldn’t know unless you were paying attention. She likens it to the niggling annoyance of hanging two paintings next to each other—you’re sure they’re even, (you _made sure_ they’re even), but the more you look, the more uncertain you become of your assessment.

Casnia doesn’t know just what it is about him that bothers her, but it’s enough to make her feel uncomfortable. The empire teaches its citizens to know absolute certainty, and doubt is a problem dealt with on an immediate basis.

Even at a young age, she’s itching to get to the bottom of it.

But whatever sets Ardyn apart from the rest of the people doesn't seem to bother her parents, and more importantly, it doesn’t seem to bother the emperor, so she grudgingly lets it go.

 

* * *

The second time she sees Ardyn Izunia, she's fifteen and sitting in one of the large, open Academy lecture halls, surrounded by technology and following in her parents’ footsteps. Every student is dressed in identical uniforms—as always—and they sit in alphabetical rows. She sits towards the front, hands folded, back straight, and at attention.

The professor is ecstatic about their guest speaker, practically falling over his feet, and all but singing praises of Ardyn’s theories and scientific prowess.

It's enough to raise her eyebrows. What sort of prominent politician was also an accomplished scientist? Who had the time for that? But again, she lets it go, because once Ardyn starts talking she can’t help but be swept up in his lecture.

He speaks primarily of the empire’s magitek infantry—of their strengths, potential unit design, and plans moving forward. The presentation is elaborate, reflecting the man’s knowledge on the subject, and filled with practical applications and questions which leave the class wondering at possibilities.  

Casnia knows that Ardyn played a huge role in the empire’s military expansion. His contribution is likened to Verstael’s initial invention, or to the time the empire achieved complete control over the skies with their indomitable fleet of airships. It’s a crowning, historic moment in her country’s path to supremacy.

She doesn’t appreciate it as much as she probably should, but she jots down bits and pieces of his lecture to read over later.

Science suits her and she does well with it, but it doesn't drive her. Her own aspirations matter little, though, because the Caldus family has a long line of research devoted to the empire and she has no choice but to continue that service. The lack of options bothered her once, but her field of study is interesting enough that she doesn’t complain.

(The benefits of rank and familial reputation also keep her quiet. Everything is all but given to her.)

The presentation ends with time allotted for questions, and suddenly she’s surrounded by her classmates asking the chancellor for all sorts of project-related insights. Everything is according to script, from the types of questions asked to the answers he gives—input, output, terrifyingly efficient as was everything around her.

Ardyn’s voice is unwavering, commanding respect, but there’s this casual lilt in his tone that sets him apart from the rest of her professors. He’s entirely at ease, and truly sounds more like a teacher passing knowledge upon them than a soldier instilling facts into them.

He has her entire class enraptured by his presence and for whatever reason, it irritates her to no end.

Again, it’s that subtle, insistent feeling that something isn’t right. He simply doesn’t _fit_.

She raises her hand, waits patiently, then stands when it’s her turn to speak. “Do you believe the empire has become too reliant on its magitek infantry?”

A lull settles over the class. Her question is proper, but there’s an undertone of disrespect and insubordination in it. She has just questioned the significance of his contribution to the empire, and in the same vein, the source of all his influence.

He stares at her for a brief moment, face passive, before he eases into an indulgent smile. “The power of the magitek infantry is the key to the empire’s success,” he says, avoiding a direct answer with all the infuriating grace of a seasoned politician. “They are an invaluable weapon, don’t you think?”

She’s no politician herself, but the trap is glaring enough. “I think the empire’s success comes from its dedication to progress.”

“And the empire has progressed significantly since their introduction, with all but one, small part Lucis under its command.” He moves about the room at a slow pace, and his stride reminds Casnia far too much of the artificial soldiers they speak of—seemingly natural, but off just enough to send your skin crawling.

“In fact,” he continues in an aloof manner, “Progress has been so smooth that I daresay this war with Lucis is nearly over. Another decade, perhaps, and Insomnia will fall.”

She chews on the inside of her cheek and quells uncertainty. She picked this fight. She’d see it through. “Maybe so, but numerous other projects have been postponed in favor of expanding this sole weapon. Is it not wiser to maintain an arsenal of diversity to keep an enemy off-balance, should they devise a counter?”

He suddenly stops and his smile turns sharp. “Now, there’s a thought. Given the recent trend of things, do you really believe Insomnia has the time or opportunity to devise anything short of, say, a surrender proposal?”

A chuckle ripples through the class at his remark and she barely manages to squash the spark of indignation. She bites her tongue until it bleeds and ducks her head to acknowledge his point, but refuses to concede without getting another word in.

“I am merely concerned for the wellbeing of the empire,” she states calmly, revealing none of the irritation she feels. It’s a skill she learned growing up in a military state. They are taught from childhood to maintain careful control over their emotions, and in the same manner, to constantly be aware of threats. It's how she knows that if the conversation continues in the same direction, then they would talk around each other until he undoubtedly embarrassed her again.

So she bites the bullet and denies him the opportunity. “The magitek infantry is a powerful weapon. But the empire’s dedication towards its own _internal_ progress has stalled since their introduction." She pauses and considers her words carefully, aware of the attention on her. "Insomnia is our current enemy, but they are not our only enemy. We must not become reliant on a single tool, lest we repeat the same mistake that Solheim made.”

There’s a murmur of whispers behind her back and even her professor raises an eyebrow at the statement.

Little is truly known about the fall of Solheim, short of it being Niflheim’s predecessor in global domination and technological superiority. No one knows for certain what caused its downfall, save for the tales surrounding the Great War: Ifrit had something to do with it, daemons came into existence around the same time, and Solheim all but collapsed on itself in the span of some short years.

She ignores the whispers and focuses solely on the chancellor in front of her, who suddenly seems all too interested in their debate.

“A very bold statement to make, given the lack of evidence on the subject,” he mulls, reassessing her. “And what mistake do you believe Solheim made?”

“What mistake does any dominion make?" She answers without hesitation. "They grow complacent and are consequently caught off guard. I would not see the same happen to Niflheim.”

It’s enough to set off another round of whispers, but she sits down before he has another chance to question her. There’s a calculating gleam in his eye and she nearly thinks he’s going to speak more on the topic, but he turns and starts taking more questions as if nothing had happened.

She clenches her fists until they turn white.  There's a sour taste in the back of her mouth, and something tells her it has entirely to do with the man in front of her. 

 

* * *

 

But by the time she’s twenty, she’s working directly under him in their chain of command.

Her position is some outlandish mix between researcher and engineer, and assistant and auxiliary ambassador to Ardyn. The former titles are mostly for her own purpose, but they all come into play in the work she does for him. Her job is previously unheard of, but given Ardyn’s trend of breaking the mold—the position of chancellor didn’t even _exist_ until the emperor bestowed it upon him—it only made sense that his assistant’s position would also be unusual.

She isn’t quite sure how she managed to land it. Absurdity aside, she herself would be the first to admit she doesn’t meet the qualifications for the position—doesn’t have the experience for it—but Ardyn continually refuses to accept the slew of other agents at his disposal and insists that she is, in fact, perfectly fit for the job.

“You made an impression,” he tells her when she finally voices the question. “And you come from a reputable family, riddled with accomplishments. I’m certain that disappointment is _not_ something I’ll receive from you.”

Idly, she wonders if he has some unspoken, petty vendetta against her, or if he just messes with people for fun. In the same breath he manages to both reassure her and evoke a newfound sense of anxiety.

She’s been around him often enough to know when to prod and when to keep her mouth shut, and judging by the offhanded quip, he’s in an arguably good mood today.

“I insulted you,” she corrects wryly, following behind him with an electronic tablet resting in her arm. “Albeit in a roundabout way. It was not exactly a favorable first impression. The professor berated me after you left.”

He waves it off with a flourish of his hand. “It was an impression nonetheless, and what you said was of no consequence. If your comment bothered me in the slightest, then I may as well shed my role and give up on politics altogether.”

It’s as backhanded of a compliment as any, but it’s so in line with Ardyn’s double-edged personality that she can’t help but sigh. He sends her a sideways, sly smile in response, one which used to unnerve her and on occasion still sent something akin to fear crawling up her skin, but she’s long since gotten skilled at suppressing it. It came with the job. 

They turn the corner of the hallway and head towards one of the military hangars. Their boots click lightly across the steel floor, and the sound echos dully before fading out.

She taps away at the tablet in her hands. It’s tinted blue, made of something not-quite-glass but completely see-through, and light as a feather. Notifications flicker across as she tabs through the different reminders, notes, and various bits of information she has stored on it. A bright red flash at the top left of the screen catches her eye.

“Sir, Verstael has requested a meeting with you.”

“Likely to pester me with the same questions he always does,” Ardyn hums, and there’s an undertone of annoyance. “Do go in my stead, would you?”

To her credit, she doesn't falter. But she does hesitate. She’s only been studying technology her _entire life_ , but it’s precisely why the head researcher intimidates her—he, too, has devoted his life to a single focus. He would have every opportunity and every excuse to grill her on her knowledge, to ask her questions she may or may not yet have answers to.

He’d do it with glee, too, because he has specifically asked for ' _Ardyn, himself'_ and ' _not his damn assistant'_ in the request file. She finds it slightly funny that he includes the specification, because it hints at how often Ardyn sends her out in his place when he can’t be bothered with a task.

If Ardyn refused to do something, then he simply wouldn’t do it, and it’d take nothing short of the emperor himself—or his sons—to get any sort of response. The man operated entirely on his own whim, and sometimes, it was infuriating enough to get her teeth grinding.   

Verstael is not Iedolas Aldercapt, so Casnia knows what sort of response she’ll get should she mention the specific request. She simply doesn’t say anything and merely marks down the meeting somewhere in her own schedule.

In some sort of silver lining, serving under the chancellor has all but prepared her for eccentricity, being put on the spot, and questions out of left field, so she moves beyond her hesitation and nods. “Of course, sir.”

“Splendid.” The words are accompanied by a light clap of his hands. "Have you ever seen Tenebrae, Miss Caldus?”

“Once. I went as part of a research team.” It was a short trip and entirely focused on business, so she doesn’t really count it as seeing the woodland country.

He makes a displeased noise, likely coming to the same conclusion. “To the facilities by the border, I presume. Not the best place to see Tenebrae for its beauty.”

They’ve entered the main hangar by this point, so she lowers the tablet and pays attention to where she’s going. It’s a sprawling chasm of metal and floodlights, and serves as a massive section of their armory. The sheer scale of power at the empire’s disposal is awe-inspiring each time she sees it.

Entire squadrons of soldiers surround them, ranging from the mass-produced magitek riflemen to rows of giant, inactive mobile armors. The MA models were always her favorite, solely because everything about them from their design to their functionality simply made _sense_. They were machines, through-and-through, with none of the irregularities or surprises which sometimes came from the magitek infantry.

The MA’s were rarely deployed now, though. MT’s made up the bulk of their forces. _Projects have been postponed,_ as she once said.

“You’ll enjoy the Fenestala Manor,” Ardyn says as they traverse a footbridge over a set of large weaponry. “It’s truly an impressive sight, though I imagine the change in weather is what most look forward to. It’s certainly my favorite part of leaving Gralea.”

“I hear it’s humid there this time of year.” She scrunches up her nose. “Honestly, it sounds dreadful. I think I prefer the crisp air here, sir.”

He chuckles and she nearly misses it over the sudden sound of machinery to their left, but his voice is distinct enough to hear. “Nonsense. You’re simply far too used to the cold here. Some sun and heat will do you good.” 

She brushes strands of hair out of her eyes and squints against the pickup of wind as a nearby airship ascends, then follows Ardyn towards another, slightly smaller airship docked in a nearby zone. A squad of MT’s follow in after them and Casnia steps to the side once they board, allowing them to maintain formation.  A loud noise warns them as the ramp recedes, and within seconds they’re in the sky.

It’s a few hours travel to Tenebrae. By a stroke of generosity, Ardyn thankfully leaves her to her own devices for the trip. Perhaps he knows she needs the preparation time, or perhaps he simply has something better to do. Either way, she uses the time given to her to its fullest.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I like my villains like I like my coffee: dark, bitter, and leaving you with a headache some hours after. (Not really, because I throw sugar in there like it's nobody's business, but that's besides the point.) 
> 
> Anyway. The Kingdom of Lucis will also have a slightly altered history, but that's something that will be revealed throughout the course of the story because the Empire is the main focus here. Solheim came before everything, but it influenced all of the current countries in different ways. 
> 
> I know that the "MA" imperial machinery probably means "magitek armor", but for this story I'm referring to it as "mobile armor" because it runs off of a different type of energy source. (I swear I'm not introducing Gundams into this. Promise.)


	2. Invidia

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I take forever to write and I apologize in advance. Whoops. But hey, thanks to everyone who is interested in the story and has left comments/kudos. You guys are great. Also, remember this story is tagged as 'AU', so expect quite a few things to be moved around.

The geography of Tenebrae—or the Fenestala Manor, in particular, makes her head hurt. The moment she sees it she’s immediately considering all the ways the manor is susceptible to attack. In the span of ten minutes she devises at least five different ways a single rocket can decimate the infrastructure, as vital support beams are all but on display for the world to see.

The more she stares, the more vulnerabilities she finds, and the more she appreciates Gralea’s design. At least at home she never has to worry about the floor giving in under her because an ancient rock formation finally caved from the effects of weathering.

There’s a scuffling of boots behind her, and she immediately knows who it is from the sound of their footfalls alone. Out of the corner of her eye, a ruffled hand rests on the stone railing next to her. “Enjoying the view?”

She shifts slightly as Ardyn comes to stand beside her, but otherwise doesn’t move and keeps her gaze steadily in front of her. “I suppose.”

He raises an eyebrow at her hesitation. “Is the architecture not to your liking?”

“No, the architecture is distinct.”

“The weather, then? You were complaining about it before.”

She reaches up to touch her hair. Most of it is pulled back in a neat, high ponytail, but a few blond strands have fallen loose, curled by the humidity. “No, you were right about it being bearable. The elevation and wind make it… nice.”

“And you doubted me.” He turns and leans back on the railing, enjoying the breeze that flows past them. It kicks up his long coat and ruffles her jacket. “Yet you still seemed irked over something, if that terrible scowl is anything to go by.”

“This location is indefensible." She lowers her hand and watches as another airship of their fleet descends in the distance. The machines stick out like a sore thumb, surrounded by greenery. “It makes no sense to build here," she says. "Perhaps before airships were invented it was difficult to conquer given the verticality, but—”

He clicks his tongue in annoyance, but the corners of his lips twitch up in amusement. “Do stop thinking like an imperial for a moment, and simply enjoy the sight in front of you for once.”

She frowns and quiets down at the admonishment, but doesn’t apologize. Thinking about warcraft is second nature to her and consciously being aware of weakness is a good habit to have.

She does as he asks, though, and turns to look over the scene in front of her a second time, this time glossing over its structural imperfections.

The Fenestala Manor is a marvel of hanging gardens and weaving waterfalls, with the sun peeking over the cliff in such a way that makes it look more like a scene out of a painting than real life. The geography is something along the lines of a karst, but there are a few ridges which seem to defy gravity itself, so she’s hesitant in labeling it as such.

“It’s…. impressive,” Casnia admits quietly, taking in the delicate arches and intricate masonry before her. Her scowl fades away as she lets herself simply appreciate the view for what it is, and if she was to describe it in one word, it would be ‘magical.’

But she’s not one to wax poetic. “It’s a regal and fitting seat for the Oracle, given her role.”  

“Indeed,” Ardyn mutters. “As though out of a fairytale, isn’t it?”

The dip in his voice gives her pause, but by the time she’s looking at him he’s already making his way towards the stairs leading into the manor. “As it so happens, Lady Lunafreya is just who we are here to see. I trust you’re aware of our purpose here.”

Casnia eyes him warily, aware of the subtle shift in his mood, but falls into step beside him. “Yes, sir. However, I’ve been informed that Commander Glauca is unable to join us due to some... unforeseen circumstances. We can reschedule this meeting if you like, but the Fleuret siblings are prepared to see us.”

“Then it’d be awfully rude of us to keep them waiting. You can inform the commander on what he misses.” There’s a humorless, thin smile on his face. “Perhaps you can also offer to run his schedule as _his_ assistant, if only to make sure he arrives to future appointments on time. Unreliability is hardly a trait fit for a leader.”

A snort escapes her lips before she can stop it. The empire has a number of generals and commanders, who all vary in terms of how intimidating they are, but Glauca is something else entirely. He’s arguably more terrifying than Ardyn is on a bad day, and although she wouldn’t be caught dead disrespecting him (an event which _would_ end with her dead), the only reason she shows any sort of deference to the man is out of loyalty to the chain of command.

He’s an absolute terror on the battlefield and suitable enough to lead troops, but has few redeeming qualities beyond his combat capabilities. Even by an empire which praises military prowess, Glauca is seen as ruthless to a fault, and his actions during the Fenestala invasion six years ago all but confirmed the fact.

Whereas Ardyn’s anger is a patient, lurking thing, manifesting itself as cutting sarcasm and verbal barbs, Glauca’s has as much subtlety and restraint as a wild dog—and while she’s not often on the receiving end of Ardyn’s irritation, it’s truly a test of her self-restraint each time she is.

Even so, her job could be worse. The chancellor gives her a lot of lenience, in both how she speaks to him and the work expected of her. The pay is also nice, and she gets plenty of time to herself to work on her own projects.

“I’m sure that being assistant to the Commander is a _pleasure_ ,” she says lightly, “But I think I prefer working for you instead.”

“Is that so? I recall you being less than pleased with me not just a few days ago. And I _did_ happen to overhear that Glauca is, in fact, looking for some new agents for that new assignment of his—”

“I rather enjoy having all of my limbs attached, sir,” she interrupts him mildly, ignoring the bait. “As you know, I have a habit of sometimes pushing my luck and running my mouth. Yet the chances of me being suddenly injured or facing premature death for it are far lower with you.” A beat, then she tacks on, “I think.”

“Well, that answer should be evident enough. You’re still here, aren’t you?”

“Indeed I am, if only to do the tasks you find inanely dull.”

He sends her a sideways glance with an eyebrow raised, and she sighs upon realizing that she just displayed the very habit she was just speaking of. “My apologies,” she mumbles.

There’s a smugness about him again, and she’s glad that whatever briefly soured his mood had passed. Ardyn huffs out something akin to a laugh as they pass the doors into the foyer. “Ah, and this is precisely why I keep you around, Miss Caldus.”  

 

* * *

 

Lady Lunafreya is a young, frail thing—skinny as a stick and pale as milk. At first sight, Casnia chalks her up as merely another princess, but upon closer view finds steel in her gaze and purpose in her steps.

She tries to muster up some empathy towards the girl. Losing a parent is as difficult of an experience as any, and being burdened with the mantle of Oracle shortly after the fact no doubt also placed a heavy weight on her shoulders.

Casnia knows that she should feel sorry for Luna—and she does, to an extent, because she knows what losing family feels like.

At the same time, however, she can’t shake off the belief that the death of Oracle Sylva could have easily been avoided if only she had refused to harbor Lucian royalty in her territory. The emperor had once been perfectly content in leaving the Fleuret family alone, even allowing them some semblance of autonomy out of respect for the Oracle’s role. She was regarded highly within the empire itself and treated with the utmost respect by its citizenry.

Then Niflheim’s intelligence networks caught wind of King Regis and his son taking refuge in her home, and any lenience or favoritism the emperor showed towards the family all but evaporated. Tenebrae was put under constant watch, and was now practically a hub for Niflheim forces.

The death of Sylva Nox Fleuret also sparked unrest within the empire—which was promptly quelled by the military—but the seed of dissent had been planted all the same. Her death came as a surprise even to their own forces, and Glauca was promptly demoted for the act, but many still began questioning the emperor’s true motives behind the extended war on Lucis. It’s no secret among the higher echelon of Gralea that the event also created a rift between Iedolas and his eldest son, and placed strain between various members of the Imperial Senate.

Casnia has her own opinions on the matter, but her opinions are irrelevant here, so she keeps her thoughts to herself and stands quietly by the door while Ardyn speaks to the Fleuret siblings.

He walks about the room, taking his time to view the various paintings on the wall. “You must understand the cause of our hesitation, Lady Lunafreya, given the current state of things.”

Luna holds her head high, maintains eye contact, and remains polite and courteous towards them despite the dislike she harbors.  She sits in a navy-colored armchair with her hands folded in her lap, and follows Ardyn’s path with her eyes. “The Oracle’s role is to protect the people of the world, Chancellor Izunia. Insomnia is part of that—you cannot keep me from them.”  

“To protect the people from _the plague_ ,” he corrects airily, leaning in to inspect a portrait. “Which Insomnia has none of, given their Crystal’s protection. Your services are not required within their city, though your dedication to your duty is truly admirable... and at _such_ a young age.”

She doesn’t even blink at the blatant insincerity. “And the rest of Lucis? You would keep me from those people as well?”

“If only for your own safety,” he says with faux concern, and whirls around to face her with a sardonic smile. “It’d be highly irresponsible of us to allow you into a warzone, now wouldn't it? The world hardly needs to lose two Oracles in less than a decade.”

Ravus bristles at his post by Luna’s side, but remains quiet save for the scowl growing on his face. Ardyn’s gaze flickers to him briefly, and he adjusts his hat to hide his smirk before resuming his stride about the room.

It not a threat—not quite—but it’s a reminder all the same.

Luna inhales deeply through her nose and centers herself before speaking again. “And if I were to go under guard? Surely the empire can guarantee my protection.”

“Indeed we could,” Ardyn says, and stops right by the tall windows in the room. “You are, after all, an important citizen of Niflheim.”

Casnia nearly winces at the spark in Luna’s gaze. Even in her relatively short time as Ardyn’s assistant, she’s seen him play with people in the midst of negotiations. He was shrewd and no doubt had a mind for politics, but some of what he did was just cruel.

The chancellor had a habit of giving people hope, letting them think they had a chance, then abruptly pulling the rug out from under them. His eccentricity only added to his skill in manipulation—either people didn't take him seriously until it was too late, or they paid him too much attention and missed what was going on in the background.

Ravus catches her sigh and gives her a measured, questioning stare over Luna’s head. Casnia meets it evenly and dips her head in acknowledgement, but otherwise continues to remain silent.

“Then I could visit Lestallum, in the least,” Luna urges, leaning forward in her seat. “The city is far from the fighting, and it would allow me a chance to help the citizenry there. I would be most grateful if you could arrange such a—”

“Now, now, we mustn’t get ahead of ourselves,” Ardyn chides, raising a single finger. “I said we _could_ ; I did not say we _would_.”

Ravus’ attention snaps back to Ardyn, and he’s all but glaring daggers at the man by this point. Ardyn raises his hands in a conciliatory manner and again turns to face them both. “The military is busy with the war, I’m afraid. That new force—the Kingsglaive, I believe?—is proving to be quite a handful. We have no one available to escort you.”

“Then what is the purpose of your visit?” Ravus seethes, taking a step forward. Luna raises a hand to calm him, but he shrugs her off. “If you came here solely to deny us—”

“Please, Lord Ravus, I’m hardly here empty-handed,” Ardyn interrupts him, completely unperturbed by the outburst. “We came to deliver good news! Miss Caldus, if you would?”

She steps forward to open her mouth—

“And the short version, please.”

—and nearly wants to pull her hair out. _Why did you have me read over the entire damn document, then?_   She shoots him a droll look, and amusement flashes across Ardyn's face in response.

Casnia clenches her jaw in irritation, but nods and quickly summarizes the main points in her head. “Emperor Iedolas has decided to once again allow Tenebrae-born citizens of the empire the opportunity to hold positions of rank,” she reports, folding her hands behind her back. “The Imperial Senate has also released a full statement on the matter, and the decree is effective immediately.”

Ravus narrows his eyes at her. “Which positions?”

“I have the full list and details on hand if you wish to see them,” she says blithely, if only to spite Ardyn because she _did not_ read fifty pages for nothing, “But the majority of openings are within the military branch, up to and including the rank of general. There are a few available seats within the research facilities, as well as the local and regional administrative offices, but—”

“But neither our autonomy nor our royal status will be returned to us,” he surmises with a glower. “So we cannot govern ourselves. All you offer is a way for our people to die for Niflheim.”

“On the contrary,” Ardyn cuts in, slowly making his way towards them, “What we offer is a way for them to serve, and to hold positions of influence at that. It’s quite a generous gift from the emperor himself! Who knows—perhaps through this we may even find the opportunity to put together an escort for Lady Lunafreya.”

Silence settles between them as understanding dawns on the Fleuret siblings. Casnia feels something unpleasant settle in her gut when she sees the resignation on Luna’s face, and watches Ravus clench and unclench his fists by her side.

Ardyn tips his hat towards them. “We’ll leave you to your thoughts,” he says, and gestures for Casnia to follow him out. She bows towards them, then shuts the door with a light _click_ behind her.

They walk through the hallways in silence, at least until Ardyn begins humming some off-key tune to fill the space. She doesn’t recognize it, but she’s too preoccupied with her thoughts to really notice.

She knows that the purpose of the emperor’s decree is to further bring Tenebrae under his thumb, to ensure that a betrayal doesn’t happen again—and bringing them into the empire's hierarchy is a sure way of doing so. She’s not necessarily _against_ the decision, but she can’t help but feel that their goal could have been accomplished in a less… dishonest way.

 

* * *

 

They’re given guest rooms to stay in for the remainder of their visit. Like most locations outside of Insomnia, Tenebrae is alit with a multitude of lights throughout the night in order to keep daemons at bay. Lunafreya’s powers as Oracle also act as a buffer for them, and although her protection is nowhere near the scale of Insomnia’s Crystal, it’s enough to protect the manor itself.

Casnia still keeps her pistol holstered to her thigh at all times. She doesn’t doubt the Oracle’s ability, but she simply prefers physical, tangible defenses, and there are not nearly enough soldiers—MT or otherwise—patrolling the hallways to make her feel safe.

Eventually she commandeers two out of the five MTs which patrol past her room and rewrites their orders so they remain posted by her door. There’s a brief issue where one refuses to acknowledge her clearance level to do such an act, but she merely swipes her ID card across the terminal in its back to override the warning.

It makes a whirring noise, stares at her for a moment, then complies and moves to her door.

She eyes it carefully and makes a mental note to motion for a reinspection of Tenebrae’s MT forces. The soldiers in Gralea go through routine checks for irregularities, but only because they are an integral part of the city’s defense and surrounded by citizens on a daily basis.

There’s a handful of stories about them occasionally going haywire, and although she doesn’t live _here_ , she’d rather not have someone get hurt by a malfunctioning machine.

She lays on the comforter for another hour, staring listlessly at the ceiling. The remaining three MTs are on their eleventh circuit past her room when she finally sighs and gives up on sleep altogether. Her tablet is on the desk by the window, and she taps it on before sliding down the nearby wall and reading over notes from her own projects.

She’s about halfway through an updated blueprint on the newly proposed Diamond Weapon when there’s a knock on her door. A glance at the corner of her tablet tells her it’s 1:14 in the morning and she frowns, but makes herself presentable and gets up to answer the door.

Ravus stands on the other side of it, dressed exactly as he was during their meeting hours ago. He stares at the MTs by her door, perplexed. “I take it that you’re responsible for their altered orders.”

“...Yes,” she says slowly, unsure if it’s a problem or not. “I can revert them to their original state if it’s an issue.”

He shakes his head. “It’s of no consequence.”

“Alright,” she nods, but shifts awkwardly. She’s still dressed in her uniform—black leggings, a white military skirt over them and a simple, matching white shirt—but she’s missing her jacket and her boots and for some reason the lack of those two make her uncomfortable.

Ravus catches her hesitation, notices her outfit at the exact same time, and remembers his manners. “I apologize if I woke you.”

“No, I couldn’t sleep anyway,” she says, and is only slightly surprised by his civility, given his hostile attitude towards them earlier. “Is there something I can do for you?”

He suddenly seems as uncomfortable as she is. “The chancellor said to direct any questions regarding the emperor’s decision to you, regardless of the time...”

Casnia resists pinching the bridge of her nose. _Of course he did._ It’s definitely not something she wants to be thinking about right now, but she’s still technically working. “Yes. Would you like to know the specifics of the document, or…?”

“No, but I would like to… join you as you return to Gralea tomorrow. Could this be arranged?”

She stares at him. He’s clenching his jaw and his hands are balled into fists, but he seems resolute in his decision despite the initial hesitation in his voice. “You want to join the military?”

He nods stiffly.

“Well, normally, you would speak to Commander Glauca about that—or whoever his assistants may be. His division is charged with arranging where new recruits are sent to,” she tells him, then sees his sharp intake of breath and remembers just who murdered his mother.

He's statue-still, and his tone is dangerously quiet. “Is that so.”

“The Commander’s squadron was due to arrive today to collect new recruits, but some circumstances prevented them from being here,” she says slowly and chews on the inside of her cheek.  “Something about a new assignment. It may be some time before they arrive.”

Ravus exhales through his nose. “I see. If that’s the case, then I needn’t have bothered you. Please enjoy the rest of your night.” The last bit is said completely without feeling, almost as an aside, and it’s more evidence of his polite, royal upbringing than him actually wishing her a good night.  

He turns to leave, and although she could have left the matter alone, the unpleasantness she felt earlier during their meeting urges her to keep speaking. “...I can, however, go through some forms tonight and arrange for you to leave with us in the morning.”  

Ravus pauses mid-step, and gives her a flat look over his shoulder. “And why would you do that?”

She’s not a hundred percent certain that she even has the authority to do what she just suggested, but being Ardyn’s assistant lets her pull a lot of strings and her family's reputation is nothing to sneeze at. 

“Because you are part of the empire,” she says evenly, meeting his gaze. “And... although I realize you have every cause to believe otherwise, Niflheim _does_ look after its own.” _And we're not as cruel as you may believe_.

His eyes narrow and she nearly thinks he’s going to deny being part of Niflheim, or deny her assistance, but something passes over his face and he keeps his tongue. He stares at her a moment longer, his expression unreadable, then gives her a curt nod and continues down the hallway.

She sighs, watching his back. She’s not sure she agrees with the emperor’s belief of supremacy, but she does believe the unification of the world would be of benefit to all; Niflheim is a hub of technology and innovation, full of revolutionary ideas and bright minds.

And while she does believe that the Fleurets are responsible for incurring the emperor’s wrath on themselves, she also believes they should be given the chance to do right by the empire.

So Casnia resigns herself to another sleepless night, and works on figuring out how she can enlist Ravus into the military without going through Glauca or his division to do it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I’m going to rant a bit about the structure of the empire’s chain of command. I refuse to believe that Glauca is the empire’s only general for a number of reasons. Their forces are far too vast—you’ve got the magiteks, you’ve got the airship fleets, you’ve got the royal guard (there's _no way_ Iedolas only has magiteks protecting him, people are far more reliable), and you’ve got mercenaries, so like…? One man cannot be coordinating all of that. I also refuse to believe that he’s the empire’s Supreme Commander—at least by the time the Kingsglaive is formed—because he’s the Kingsglaive Commander _at the same time_. He wouldn’t have the time.
> 
> King Regis didn’t just pluck out anyone for the role. He's entrusting the Kingsglaive with the _power of the crystal_. He no doubt picked someone with a good reputation, and he picked someone he trusted to lead the force. Both reputation and trust are things that are earned, so Glauca had to have spent a good amount of time within Insomnia to land that role. The city is also surrounded by giant walls, and if they had any sense of security, then they no doubt kept a record of everyone and everything that went in and out. So all in all, I find it really hard to believe that Glauca could lead Niflheim’s forces while he’s busy infiltrating Insomnia. I'm aware the cellphones and the internet (probably) are a thing in this universe and he can maintain communication, but even then, I find it all a bit absurd. 
> 
> Also, the fact that he killed the Oracle and didn’t get reprimanded for it is??? Iedolas is without a doubt power-hungry af, and the game even states in one of the loading screens that _“the war changed him and his newfound lust for power came to instill fear and not fondness in the hearts of his subjects”_ , but even he’s not thirsty enough to kill someone responsible with protecting the entire world. The Oracle protected the people of Niflheim from the darkness, too. And if Iedolas happened to get infected with the virus, he's only got one person available to heal it. It'd be downright stupid to kill them.
> 
> Anyway. As for the political/legislative structure, I’m going to base it by how Archades is in FFXII: the emperor is at the top and the senate answers to him, but ultimately they’re the ones who deal with the legal functions of the empire and are responsible for creating laws.
> 
> The research division has less influence, but they also have less to do with daily life and are usually more involved in the military side of things. Even so, they’re still very prominent and are often brought to attention by Verstael, who constantly lobbies for the emperor’s favor.
> 
> Ardyn is kind of just… there. He’s higher on the ladder than Verstael and he has more influence on the emperor than the senate does—and he _can_ influence what goes on in the senate, as well as the research division—but he doesn’t really care what goes on within either departments as long as he maintains the emperor's ear. (And if people bother him about it, he just sends Casnia to deal with it, hence her weird mix of rank as his assistant.) He’s on about the same level as the military generals in terms of rank, but because Niflheim is a military state, they _can_ override his orders in combat scenarios.
> 
> He’s ultimately a political figure and scientist, not a military commander. I know there are scenes where he's ordering the military around, but I think those examples are more along the lines of “he's doing this solely because of Plot” rather than him actually having the authority to do so.
> 
> Tldr: If you want to see a graphic of the structure I'm working with, [here you go.](https://68.media.tumblr.com/573ad6c2ceb9ad687ed6f1c63135bc6b/tumblr_oi8smgWz5p1r1wk68o1_1280.png) Otherwise, thanks for bearing with me.
> 
> As for the timeline, it’s currently M.E. 750, about six years before the start of the game. Casnia is 20, Luna is 18, and Ravus is 22.


	3. Acedia

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writing has been hard lately. I've been reading all of your comments and they're very encouraging. Thank you. I'm sorry for the lack of updates, and even this chapter feels a bit incomplete, but I wanted to release _something._ Sorry for the long wait. Hope some banter makes up for it. ;_;

Flights around Shiva’s cadaver had a way of making people uncomfortable.

Casnia is no exception.

It’s silly, how the space around the dead God unnerves her, because the Astral has been dead for years and Niflheim’s military is nothing if not thorough. 

Realistically, she knows there’s nothing to worry about. There’s no chance of Shiva rising again, and the empire’s airships are more than efficient in cutting through the hazardous weather typical to the region surrounding the cadaver.

It’d take more than wind and snow to down one of Niflheim’s airship. There’s no cause for concern.

And yet, Casnia still finds herself on edge. Her leg is bouncing under the table and she catches herself rereading over the same block of text on her tablet for the third time in the past five minutes. The low hum of the airship’s engine is like a dull roar in her ears, and rather than reassure her of the steadiness in the ship’s systems, it only amplifies the lack of other sounds around her.

There’s always a subtle shift in the air during these flights—a deafening sort of quiet, where the silence becomes a sound in itself, and always accompanied by an almost involuntary, heightened state of awareness.

She knows she’s not alone in these feelings of paranoia. She's heard others express similar concerns about the area, and has witnessed evidence multiple times; conversations tend to die down to mere whispers around the ship whenever the cadaver comes into range, and tension thickens the air.

Gralean personnel, in specific, absently touch the weapons holstered to them—an action Casnia finds that she mirrored as soon as the thought crosses her mind. She jerks her hand away from resting on the pistol on her thigh.

She hadn’t even realized she reached for it.

The shadows at the edges of her vision seem to grow sharper and jagged. Goosebumps prick along her skin and the hair stands on end on the back of her neck.

 _This is normal_ , she forcefully reminds herself as the knot in her stomach tightens. _This unease is typical to the area._

But it's irritating all the same. She knows that there is no threat in the area, but her instincts and body disagree.

Casnia runs a hand down her face and inhales deeply, then stands up and leaves the small room, heading towards the front of the ship. Being around others—even being around MTs—would calm her. Another presence to take her mind off of the resounding silence would be preferable than focusing on the rising paranoia.

 

* * *

 

The silence persists in the halls. Some crewmembers nod at her as she walks by, and while they all appear outwardly composed, the stiffness in their shoulders and the rigidity in their salutes hint at their nervousness.

No one is willing to strike up a conversation, and the atmosphere around them is exactly what she expected.

There's not many people on the ship to begin with. It’s a standard transport ship with a skeleton crew and a squad or two of soldiers for defense. The ship and its crew is written to Ardyn, and despite its designation as a diplomatic ship, is arguably one of the more active ships in their fleet. Ardyn never remained in a single place for too long and flew around Niflheim’s territories on a weekly basis. His trips were often for business, but sometimes he travelled for what he called ‘personal curiosities.’

Casnia only ever accompanied him on the former, and she rarely saw him bring anyone but the captain with him on the latter. She also once asked why he never traveled on the airship cruiser assigned to him by the Emperor. The cruiser was quicker, more defensible, and more fitting for someone of his position—he was the chancellor.

 _It’s all unnecessary_ , is what Ardyn answered her with, accompanied by a dismissive wave of his hand. He acted as though he was unaware his high rank made him a target.

Either that, or he didn’t care.

Both scenarios made her sigh in exasperation. Planning security detail on Ardyn’s trips is always a nightmare even when he insists he doesn’t need it.

Ravus is somewhere on the ship, but he had yet to interact with the rest of the crew and Casnia felt no need to seek him out. She had done her part in finding him a spot in the military; the Caldus family had enough reputation that she was able to pull on some strings and landed him a position on another General’s personal squadron. Ravus’ own familial reputation definitely helped in the matter, and probably played a role in why General Drace was so quick to accept him.

Regardless, Ravus was no longer her concern.

The flight deck terminal accepts Casnia's clearance rank and the door gives a mechanical hiss as it slides open. The MT standing guard doesn’t glance at her as she enters and is as stoic as ever, showing no hint of being affected by the cadaver’s influence.

The only other living people in the room besides her are Ardyn and the ship’s captain, who oversees the MT’s operating the various terminals. The captain stands on the lower platform, and nods in her direction over his shoulder as she enters.

Ardyn, on the other hand, doesn’t acknowledge her. He sits comfortably in a chair on the upper platform with one leg crossed over the other, and chin resting neatly in one hand.

Casnia spares him a glance as she moves to stand beside the railing separating the two platforms, overlooking the rest of the deck. From her spot she can read some of the flight monitors below and is able to gauge the tailwind and surrounding atmosphere. There’s nothing of note on the screens and the weather outside seems relatively subdued compared to the snowstorms typical of the area.

She idly rubs an arm and tries to rid the goosebumps from her skin. Her nerves slowly settle as the sounds of the flight deck fill her hearing—a low howling from the wind outside, the mechanical hum of the airship, and the occasional pinging from the terminals below. 

“Have you read the Cosmogony, Miss Caldus?”

Casnia startles at the sudden question behind her and whirls around to face Ardyn. He’s still in his seat, though his fingers are now crossed and settled across his lap. Casnia folds her hands behind her back, clears her throat and tries to calm her racing heart. _The cadaver’s influence,_ she remembers, annoyed at her jumpiness. “I believe most have. Or some version of it in any case, as it's a popular children’s story.”

“But have you read the full text? If I recall correctly, Gralea holds several complete copies.” Though the words were directed at her, she finds his attention still lingers elsewhere. He’s not looking at her and his eyes are unfocused as he speaks.

“No,” she answers after a pause, taking in his relaxed pose. Was he not affected by the cadaver? “I've never found much interest in it.”

That gains his attention. “Curious, as I also recall you have a fondness for history.”

“I see the Cosmogony as more of a religious text than a history book.”

“A statement I've heard before,” he says with a tinge of amusement. “Most Graleans hold the same belief. Indeed, we'd hardly have the scene in front of us now if the empire put as much stock in the text as Lucians do.” He waves his hand and she follows the direction of his gaze. The faint outline of Shiva is visible in the distance, occasionally blotted out by the gusts of snow beating against the airship. Their course doesn't take them directly above the cadaver, but close to it.

“Perhaps there is merit in interpreting the text in such a fashion,” he says as he raises from his seat. “Yet even so, you cannot argue that there is no history to be found within.”

“Certainly,” she allows, and makes space as Ardyn approaches. “But I simply prefer the narrative of our own history books.”

He smiles mockingly. “Most prefer their own, as faults and mistakes are harder to find.” 

“It's not a matter of nationalism, sir,” she mutters in annoyance, bristling. “I’m aware of the bias. I only prefer our view of history because we don't remove agency from humanity.”

The remark seems to surprise him. “Oh?”

The look he gives her reminds her of the one he gave her in the Academy, years ago. A look of assessment. The observant, sharp gleam in his eyes is not nearly as intimidating as it was then—she’s no longer a teenager—but she still never enjoys having his full attention like this. The last time it happened, she landed this job, and while Ardyn has already asserted that her first impression on him was favorable, she's never forgotten _his_ first impression on _her_.

 _Be cautious_.

“The Astrals have played a major role in history,” she says slowly. “That’s undeniable. But the Cosmogony places the fate of everything in the hands of the Astrals… in the Crystal, in the Oracle, in the line of Lucis. Essentially, the text presents the power of the Astrals as both the cause of all our successes and as the only thing capable of saving us from the Starscourge.”

She glances away and focuses ahead of her, hands gripping at the railing. The cold steel nips at her skin through her gloves. “And yet, as you said, look at the view in front of us.” She mimics his previous gesture, even though the cadaver can no longer be seen through the glass. “An Astral lays dead. How can they be our saviors if we can defeat them? Where is their proposed power?"

“Would you prefer them indomitable?” Ardyn asks airily, crossing his arms. “Given that Gralea still stands, I would expect to find you relieved in the fact they have proven they are not.”

“Of course I'm glad we defeated Shiva, but it’s also exactly my point. The fact that they _are_ fallible makes me question their capacity to save us, as well as their status above us. Not to mention their benevolence—Shiva attacked _us,_ not the other way around.”

She inhales deeply and quells the flare of irritation associated with the topic before continuing, “The Cosmogony books—and most accounts of ancient history, for that matter—tell us that the Starscourge came from Ifrit. But if one Astral is capable of causing such calamity, why have the others never staged a direct intervention in response?"

"Perhaps the Astrals are not all equal," Ardyn ventures, leaning his hip against the railing. "Perhaps Ifrit's assault is more than what the others are capable of remedying." 

"Shiva's defeat would support that theory," Casnia says with a snort, "but we've also been blessed with the Oracle and a Crystal, both of which make it difficult to believe that the Astrals don't have the power to undo what Ifrit inflicted on us." She shakes her head. "Furthermore, why must the world wait for a human to be chosen to fix their mess? Why is humanity responsible to begin with?”

“You were just arguing for human agency. Is this not a method in which we save ourselves?”

“No, because the _Chosen_ ,” Casnia mutters with a deep scowl, “much like the Oracle, is still only capable of saving us with the Astrals’ blessing. Although it's about time their Crystal finally woke up.”

A brief silence settles over them while Ardyn considers her words. The silence stretches and her lips thin as she waits for another reprimand, and she’s about to apologize for her frankness when he chuckles. “You evidently don’t hold a fond view of the divine,” he eventually says.

“I don’t hold a fond view for most of the instruments described in the Cosmogony.”

“An unusual perspective,” he says, and in her irritation she misses the way he tilts his head at her. “One you strongly believe in, if the vehemence in your words is any indication.”

Casnia opens her mouth, but hears the teasing lilt in his voice and pauses. After glancing up at him and seeing the mirth in his eyes, her shoulders drop and the tension seeps out of them. “I apologize for getting heated over this,” she mutters with a sigh. “It's a subject I'm rather passionate about.”

Ardyn’s lips quirk up, but the gleam of interest in his eyes remain. “Indeed. The last time you spoke with such conviction was when I first sent you to the Senate on my behalf.”

“Yes, well…” She nearly cringes at the memory. “I have little patience for the posturing of politicians.”

“Yet you're an assistant for one."

“A position _you_ personally recommended me for and one I've questioned since the beginning,” she replies in the same dry tone, challenging his gaze.

His smile widens in response, but in such a way that immediately puts her on edge. _Out of place,_ she thinks, instantly more aware of how close he's standing _._

“A position you’ve done well in, no?" He takes a few casual steps away from the railing, towards his seat. "You’ve yet to prove yourself unfit for the job, despite the peculiarity of it. Truly, it saddens me to think that you still question my actions.”

It’s an offhanded comment and harmless in the context of their conversation, but still sets off a warning flag in her head.

“I've only done well because you also have the mind of a scientist,” she says evenly, sidelining his last comment. “You don’t speak with circular reasoning—a fact which makes you infinitely more preferable than the senators.”

“A most warming declaration.” He rests a palm against his heart in exaggeration and twists around to face her. The curve of his smirk turns sly. “Insomuch that I would return the sentiment. As far as my experience with previous assistants goes, I find your presence as ofttimes welcome in comparison.”

“Ofttimes?” She repeats dryly. “I can only wonder at the times it isn't.”

“Oh, I'm certain you know when your presence is and isn't welcome. You would not have survived so long as my assistant otherwise.”

His words make her pause as she goes over them a second time in her mind. She isn't sure if she's meant to take his statement literally or not, and her hesitation shows. Ardyn gives a crooked smile as he catches her sudden wariness. “Unfortunately,” he laments with a sigh, “the others had quite a few  _irritating_ habits that I simply couldn't stand.”

“Dare I ask if my tendency to pester you to finish paperwork is among those.”

“A minor inconvenience,” he waves it off, “and one I can certainly overlook on most occasions.”

Casnia shakes her head with a huff, but doesn’t comment further, and is relieved when he also drops the topic.

The flight deck goes silent save for the pinging of the terminals and the hum of the airship. The captain on the deck below them gives no indication as to whether or not they listened to the conversation, and Shiva’s cadaver is far enough away that the negative effects of her presence have also passed.

Ardyn brushes his shoulders of some lint, and out of the corner of her eye Casnia sees him idly run a hand through his hair and rearrange his hat. She once again finds it odd that he gave no indication of Shiva’s influence, but files the peculiarity in the back of her mind for another time.

Their previous conversation sparked her attention, though, and he seemed receptive enough, so she is keen on continuing it. “You are correct that most Graleans view the Cosmogony as a religious text,” she says smoothly after he’s settled. “Not all of Niflheim shares our views, but we are hardly a religious people. Most of us refuse to take the text seriously simply because of that one reason.”

“An assertion leading me to assume you believe otherwise.”

Her lip twitches. Ardyn has a way of knowing her words before she speaks them, and she’s not sure if she’s thankful or wary that he can read her like an open book.  “I only believe that there must be more options available to us.”

“A sentiment others have probably shared, and yet the powers of the Oracle remain as the only method of curing the afflicted.” He sounds reproachful, and a glance at him confirms it. “The plague is hardly a novel occurrence, Miss Caldus. If another solution exists, do you not believe it would have already been discovered?”

“And when was the last extensive investigation of the disease?” She returns immediately, folding her hands behind her back and squaring her shoulders as she turns to face him. “Niflheim’s priority for the past few centuries has been global expansion, and Lucis already has their solution—what is written in the Cosmogony. Nobody is searching for answers… and why should they, I suppose, if they believe the solution already exists.”

Ardyn rests his chin in his hand, but despite looking at her, doesn’t appear as engaged as before. “You speak of the perils of complacency.”

“Precisely so. It’s an issue I’ve brought up before.”

“And I remember as much, though it's several years past now. Though I now find myself wondering—why not act on the matter yourself? Certainly you have the means to do so at your disposal.”

She smiles thinly, having heard the question before. “Obligation, primarily.”

“To your family?”

“To the empire,” she corrects. “But… yes. To my family as well.” _What’s left of it,_ she thinks, glancing away from him. Her dislike for the Astrals went beyond a mere preference of historical narrative. The victory over Shiva came with costs.

Ardyn watches her quietly from under the rim of his hat, no doubt picking up on her shift in mood. Whatever he is going to say—or if he had a comment to begin with, Casnia isn’t sure—is cut off by the captain coming up the stairs.

“We’ll be arriving in twenty minutes,” he reports, eyeing the two of them briefly before returning to his post.

Ardyn tips his hat in acknowledgment, but keeps his gaze levelled on Casnia. This time, however, she isn’t as keen on restarting the conversation as before. Something passes over his face and he leans back into his seat, steepling his hands and returning to the relaxed posture she found him in when she first entered.

“Perhaps it’s for the best that you don’t pursue that particular project,” he eventually says. “After all, there are many other goals to pour your efforts into—the Diamond Weapon being one of them, as I hear. Not as groundbreaking as your aspiration, but a monumental project all the same.”

It’s as blatant of a subject change as she’s ever heard him give, and Casnia almost finds the offer consoling. But she’s never heard of him comforting anyone before, and she expects that it isn’t his intention, so she simply takes his words at face-value. Instead, she gives him a wry smile and a knowing look. “There are some things that simply require doing.”

There's a pause as Ardyn picks up on her lack of clarification. He returns a sardonic smile of his own, and she catches something akin to approval flash in his eyes. “Indeed there are.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also as a clarification—as far as everyone is concerned, MT's are powered by some mix of advanced technology, and some additional component which harnesses magic that Ardyn introduced. (Which got him his position in the empire.) People in the research division and Niflheim's military know generally that daemons are somehow involved in the process, but otherwise don't know the details. Only Verstael, Ardyn, and the highest circle of the Emperor's confidants (like his sons and his Generals) know that the process involves harvesting daemons and turning them into an energy source. 
> 
> Only Ardyn knows that daemons used to be people. No one knows that the Starscourge turns people into daemons—they're either cured by the Oracle as soon as they're infected, or they die and are buried before they complete the transformation and become reanimated.


End file.
